throbbing light machine

Man, I am tired today. But! I taught class all by myself! The prof had to be out of town, and instead of cancelling, she let me take it. Eeek. Also, being a white girl teaching Toni Morrison to a class of 21 white kids and one black freshman is both ethically odd and very, very complicated. But I managed, maybe even did good.

Phew. Have a poem, in celebration of the fact that it was a little bit warmer out today, and the ice on the sidewalks began to melt:

Dreme

that I walked in the garden
winding like a (silk ribbon) through
the trees

(embalmed in ice like window glass)

The illusions of fruit hung heavy
and opaque petals bruised and
full and transparent in the snow. My
bare feet,

(snowflakes were streaming once)

and the heavy smell of magnolia trees
in a remembered bloom of metal that runs
through me in the shape like arrows,
or a high note played long
on some thing of brass and hair

Snow melting down the flagstones
and all around the roots